Freya stumbled into the village's Adventurer's Guild like a raccoon that had just discovered electricity. The large wooden doors creaked dramatically, because of course they did, and every head inside turned to look at her.
She struck a pose—one leg extended, arms out, sword (still bent) resting on her shoulder. "Behold!" she declared. "Your next legendary adventurer has arrived!"
Silence.
A spoon clinked against a bowl.
Someone coughed.
A bard in the corner strummed a confused chord.
Then a goat trotted through the center of the guild hall wearing a tiny vest and tooting violently with every step.
"Kevin," said the receptionist without looking up. "Stop feeding the goat bean stew."
Freya pointed at the goat. "That's not a goat, that's a biological weapon!"
"No," the receptionist replied blandly, flipping a page in her ledger. "That's Kevin, our mascot. He has indigestion and deep emotional trauma. Also a level 5 adventurer."
Freya blinked. "The goat is higher level than me?"
Kevin belched like a dying bagpipe and headbutted a chair.
The receptionist pointed to a sign that read, **"All members must register before chaos. Or during. We're not picky."**
Freya trudged up to the counter, dodging a fart cloud that looked suspiciously sentient. "Alright, sign me up. I need gold, gear, and possibly a goat exorcist."
The receptionist, a woman who looked like she'd seen every possible adventurer stereotype and was now spiritually numb, handed Freya a form. "Fill this out. Name, class, greatest fear, blood type, and the number of times you've accidentally caused a localized apocalypse."
Freya paused. "Do I get extra credit for 'none yet, but I've got ambition'?"
"Only if you spell 'apocalypse' correctly."
Five minutes and one spelling disaster later, Freya was registered.
**\[Congratulations! You are now an official member of the Adventurer's Guild (Pending Hazing).]**
**\[New Title Unlocked: 'Fresh Meat']**
The guild lobby had the ambiance of a tavern designed by someone who once saw a medieval painting and thought, "You know what this needs? More splinters." Long tables, guild posters, shouting contests, and mysterious stains made up the aesthetic. The quest board stood at the far end, glowing faintly and radiating equal parts opportunity and tetanus.
Freya strutted over, trying to look cool but nearly tripping over a cat wearing chainmail.
The board was divided into sections:
* S-Rank: Slay dragons, retrieve ancient relics, save the world.
* A-Rank: Escort nobles, eliminate bandit camps, survive Kevin's bad side.
* B-Rank: Clear haunted mansions, deliver dangerous artifacts, organize cursed paperwork.
* C-Rank: Basic monster extermination, herb gathering, mandatory therapy with cranky forest druids.
* F-Rank: Pick up litter. Milk exploding cows. Locate someone's missing left shoe.
Freya looked at her own adventurer's badge, which was so dull it might as well have been forged from disappointment.
**\[Rank: F - You're barely a threat to yourself.]**
"Guess I'll start small," she sighed, yanking a faded quest slip from the F-Rank side.
**Quest: Slime Suppression**
**Location: The Squishy Forest**
**Objective: Reduce slime numbers. Try not to get absorbed.**
"Well," Freya muttered. "At least they're not asking me to deliver sentient bread."
---
The Squishy Forest lived up to its name. Every step Freya took made a wet, squelching sound that was both deeply concerning and suspiciously like someone stirring macaroni.
Slimes bobbed between trees like gelatinous marshmallows on vacation. One blinked at her with big googly eyes.
Freya squinted. "How dangerous can these guys be?"
Then the slime exploded.
She flew backward, landed in a bush that insulted her mother in Elvish, and checked her health bar.
**\[You have taken 2 damage. Also minor shame.]**
"Okay," she groaned. "So they're bouncy and explodey. Fantastic."
She took out her sword and tried to stab the next one. It bent around the slime like a licorice rope trying to hug a balloon.
The slime jiggled aggressively. Freya swore it looked smug.
Plan B: Throw rocks.
She grabbed a pebble and chucked it. It bounced off the slime and hit her in the forehead.
**\[You have taken 1 damage. Your dignity has taken 4.]**
"Plan C it is!" she shouted, grabbing a nearby stick that may or may not have been sentient and using it as a makeshift bat.
With a heroic yell that sounded a lot like "I REGRET THIS," she whacked the slime. It popped with a satisfying "splurt" and dropped a single copper coin and an old button.
"Jackpot."
Three hours and forty-seven slimes later, Freya was covered in slime goo, down one boot (devoured), and had collected:
* 15 copper coins
* 2 suspiciously alive buttons
* A quest item labeled "Slime Core (Probably Non-Explosive)"
She returned to the guild just as Kevin headbutted a table through the wall.
"Back already?" the receptionist asked, raising one weary eyebrow.
"Alive, victorious, and only slightly traumatized," Freya replied, slamming the quest slip and slime cores onto the counter.
The receptionist inspected the goo. "Hmm. Yep. Slime bits. You qualify for your reward and a coupon for laundry services."
**\[Quest Complete: Slime Suppression]**
**\[Rewards: +100 XP, 10 copper, 'Washing Voucher: Removes 1 Trauma Stain']**
**\[Level Up! You are now Level 2: Slightly Less Pathetic]**
Freya beamed. "Watch out world. I'm officially a minor threat!"
Kevin bleated in support and burped a fireball.
---
Later that night, Freya sat in the guild tavern nursing a tankard of... well, the menu said "apple cider," but it had the tang of regret and mysterious herbs.
Across from her, a gnome bard with a lute twice his size strummed a lively tune titled, "The Hero Who Accidentally Burned Down Her Inn."
"So," he asked between chords, "you got a name, slime-slayer?"
"Freya," she said, raising her cup. "Freshly minted adventurer. Professionally unprofessional."
He winked. "Name's Pip. Balladeer, wanderer, goat lawyer."
"Goat... lawyer?"
Pip nodded solemnly. "Kevin's had legal troubles. The kingdom frowns upon livestock arson."
"Honestly," Freya muttered. "He seems pretty well-adjusted for someone with a rap sheet."
"Yeah, well. We all got baggage." Pip played a dramatic chord. "Some of us just carry it in sacks. Others? In flaming livestock."
They toasted to misfits, explosions, and whatever tomorrow might bring.
Outside the window, a slime crept by wearing her missing boot.
Freya sighed. "I'm gonna need that back."